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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003341">resistance &amp; surrender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendryllio/pseuds/dendryllio'>dendryllio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>!!!!unhealthy relationships!!!!, Again, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Asexuality Spectrum, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Childhood Trauma, Complicated Relationships, Corruption, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Erotophonophilia, Except they’re not friends, Fantasy, Forced Submission, Friends With Benefits, Graphic Violence, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Medieval, Murder, Murder Kink, Mutilation, Narcissism, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, One-Sided Attraction, Psychological Trauma, Psychopathology &amp; Sociopathy, Rough Sex, Royalty, Sexual Sadism, Somnophilia, Sort Of, Stalking, Submission, Torture, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, ace character having sex if that’s not your groove, fuck buddies, getting off on watching people die??, he hasn’t declared his sexuality but he is ace/aro, i guess it’s pretty medieval but it’s also just a fantasy world, idk what it’s called but when someone believes they’re a god, is that necrophilia, is there a tag for that, its consensual but sylvar is bitter about it, ok here’s the warning tags, sex without feelings, torture kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:41:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendryllio/pseuds/dendryllio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being called a prince in any other situation would’ve been an extreme insult, Sylvar was a monarch, a king, a deity in human form, he was powerful and good as a god in his own eyes, not a lowly prince. He spit on princes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edwyrd Wysaven/Sylvar Briareth, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. chapter one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hoo boy if you found this thank you, i’ve been really invested in these ocs and i just wanted to share this, i’ll probably post more chapters once i work on some worldbuilding, it is not all porn there will be plot</p><p>read the tags please :) clearly i do not condone torture and murder</p><p>anyways enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Get on with it already, you worthless piece of filth!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd only laughed fondly at Sylvar as he hovered over the furious man splayed out on his frankly too-large bed. He looked wrecked, velvet green evening robe untied from around his slim waist and opened over his chest, deep red blush splotchy over his usually flawless complexion from the pointy tips of his ears down to his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar was certainly close to losing control, if he hadn’t already, but you could see the concentration in his face to keep composure, unwilling to let Edwyrd have any power over him until the very last second when he just couldn’t take any more. But he wouldn’t let him win that easily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What will you do, my lord? Have me executed?” That trademark smirk spread over Edwyrd’s face, conveying mischief and the knowledge that he knew exactly what he was doing, and wouldn’t stop anytime soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I very well might,” Sylvar replied with a snarl that was more cute than menacing, arching his back off the deep purple silk sheets that framed his milky figure oh so prettily as his royal advisor ran his large hands up the sensitive sides of his lord’s waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sovereign didn’t notice or want to acknowledge the movement he made when Edwyrd touched his bare skin or the little sharp gasp he let out that the larger man relished, loving the fact that he alone could take apart the most sinister, secluded, positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>rudest</span>
  </em>
  <span> man he’d ever met with a simple touch of his fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could- ngh- I shall send out the order tomorrow for the torture chambers to be- oh divines- sterilized and prepared for you as soon as p- ossible.” Sylvar’s breath hitched yet again and he cursed himself for even mentioning the divines as he had banned all worship of them years ago. Edwyrd was pressing those strong thumbs down </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the perky nipples presented in front of him like a platter on that silk tablecloth draped over the long dining table during the Feast of The New Moon. Sylvar’s chest was particularly sensitive and the ministrations sent shocks all through his body, the insistent heat pooling in his lower belly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd had been a knight serving the Austedel Empire before a devastating battle wound forced him into the far less exhilarating position on the royal court for the sovereign before Sylvar (his father’s name became a forbidden word in the empire the moment he sat down on the throne after his coronation), and the strength he still harbored from those days was put on display every time he had Sylvar splayed out in his chambers, over his lap, bent over the negotiation table in the war room </span>
  <em>
    <span>although Sylvar had, out of breath, forbidden Edwyrd from ever speaking of the encounter, and even though his words had been hard to take seriously when his face was flushed like that and his chest was painted with cum, Edwyrd hadn’t mentioned it since</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cocky ex-soldier was far from above showing off how he could pick Sylvar up like he weighed nothing, flip him over with ease, and hold him down as he pounded him until he forgot about his need to be in control of everything and everyone constantly, only knowing Edwyrd and his cock and the weight of his body against his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd was brought out of his thoughts by a sharp pain in his side, Sylvar had dug his perfectly kept nails </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> into his tanned skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Divines, you’re insatiable!” he pulled the monarch’s claw-like grip from his hip, rubbing his hand over the reddening crescent-shaped imprints. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t say divines.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said it earlier, and you’re the one that banned them. Besides, you know I’m not a worshipper anyways.” Edwyrd pressed a soft kiss to Sylvar’s rosy lips and felt a scowl against his own as palms flattened on his chest and pushed him back, but there was no weight behind the act of defiance. The older man pulled back regardless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In addition to this twee little lord under me disregarding his own decrees-“ Sylvar grumbled something along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not twee, stop teasing me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Edwyrd chuckled at that and continued, “He’s shown that most of those rules don’t apply to his precious, sweet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>devastatingly </span>
  </em>
  <span>handsome advisor.” Sylvar’s sole eye rolled so intensely that it would be apparent to anyone, even with his lack of a pupil and iris to visibly disappear into his head. He was brimming with sarcasm and Edwyrd found his brattiness winsome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Edwyrd paused yet again to remove Sylvar’s robes from his lower half as if they were the curtains over the stained glass window that was casting beauteous hues over his skin. His cock was exposed, hard and straining against the green silk panties, the colour of them identical to that of his robes. Even the lacy trim that framed the sovereign’s hips so prettily was the same ivory as the accents of his formal sleepwear. Of course he matched his undergarments with his outfits, what else could one possibly expect of this narcissistic perfectionist?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd cupped the outline of Sylvar’s erection, a soft whimper leaving the younger’s mouth as he palmed it at a slow pace, grinding his hand against his leaking cock. He increased the pressure gradually and it was so alluring how he could pleasure Sylvar so effortlessly, knowing just what he needed, exactly where and how to touch his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Methinks,” a roll of hips up against the pressure. “That if this little emperor under me,” a twitch of Sylvar’s cock and a frustrated mumble of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not little, and don’t call me emperor, you know how I hate that word. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Can call out ‘oh divines,’ as I grind my cock deep into his tight little entrance,” a louder cry this time and a desperate buck of his body, still held down by the solidity of Edwyrd’s muscle. “That I, the lord’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>close </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>personal</em>
  </b>
  <span> advisor,” here Edwyrd shot him a little wink, “Should be granted a lenience, if only a small one, to call out whatever I should like to call out while I’m pounding him so hard into his bed he couldn’t possibly begin to think of his royal duties, but you don’t have many duties other than killing the first person to look at you that day, isn’t that right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd pulled his hand from where he was caressing Sylvar’s now nearing painful erection, the lithe man under him whining and chasing him with his hips, now fully gone and willing to do whatever he could just to get off. He had tipped over that point the moment Edwyrd’s expert fingers brushed over his clothed length.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to wait for long, because before he knew it, hands were firm around his waist and he was being flipped into his stomach, robes and undergarments removed from him in quick succession and thrown to the floor. In any other situation, Sylvar would’ve scolded the larger man for his ignorance and ordered him in that stern royal tone he had developed over the years to put his garments away properly. But as it was, he was indisposed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd took a handful of Sylvar’s plush arse and he bucked his hips back into the touch with a desperate whimper at the friction of his reddened, weeping cock sliding against the sheets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to answer my question, my sweet prince?” Being called a prince in any other situation would’ve been an extreme insult, he was a monarch, a king, a deity in human form, he was powerful and good as a god in his own eyes, not a lowly prince. He spit on princes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, when Sylvar was 17 and still a lowly prince that he hated oh so strongly now, already plotting the murder of his father, he had started a fling with that bulky knight-in-training he saw in the courtyard from his window as he completed his tedious studies. He was pent up because he hadn’t killed in weeks, had been indisposed with his tutoring, sick of the stacks of books on his desk, lined up for reading he didn’t want to do. The teen in the courtyard, son of a noble, had been pent up because no matter how hard he trained, he just couldn’t be the best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two had spoken before briefly, although the prince spent most days in solitude, locked in his chambers, and he didn’t even know the older boy’s name. But they saw each other in the hallways, Sylvar’s normally pristine posture hunched with stress and the fighter close to tears after being scolded by his instructor. They locked eyes for a moment and something seemed to click. A moment later the young prince found himself pinned against the wall, a muscled arm over his chest and another next to his head, and he was moaning into this man’s mouth, rutting against his leg with no restraint. He hadn’t learnt to resist the temptations of him yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t- ah! Oh gods, I don’t even know your name,” Sylvar cried between sharp gasps of breath as his sensitive neck was abused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Edwyrd. Where are your chambers?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, Sylvar was spending the same amount of time locked in his bed chamber, but significantly less of it was spent alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd had called him prince when he was a prince. And now he called him prince when he was a king.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Answer me, Sylv,” the low growl of the voice next to his ear pulled the sovereign out of the memory and he nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I- oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>An oiled finger slid over his hole, pressing in just a bit, giving him the smallest iota of pleasure, but not nearly enough. He needed more. Sylvar was not above begging when he was this far gone, but he knew he wasn’t getting anything unless he answered Edwyrd like a good little boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath to regain composure before answering with a shaky, “I like when I kill them, makes me- mmmn! I get a rush and it takes me out of my head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good boy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A thick finger pressed into him all the way in one smooth motion and he sobbed both at the praise and the pleasure, burying his head further into the mattress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So good for answering me. But you’re not thinking about that now, right? Isn’t it better to be stuffed full of my thick cock,” Edwyrd punctuated this with a sharp thrust of his length against Sylvar’s bare ass. “Than using that thumbscrew that you prize so much?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sovereign honestly couldn’t choose between the two. He knew what his advisor wanted to hear, but if he had to decide for himself, he didn’t think he could. He craved the feeling of being stretched open around that cock, and it was huge as Edwyrd had said, the pleasure of a finger being pushed into his hole alongside the length was overwhelming and always made him cum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But watching in fascination as an innocent person screamed their lungs out as the joints in their fingers were crushed by pristine metal (he always kept his toys clean), and the absolutely divine rush of power he got from digging his fingers into their own after he shattered their bones and any small shred of hope they had that he would show mercy, something Sylvar never did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were both similar pleasures, and neither was better than the other, but he did have to admit, he wasn’t thinking of torture right now. The only thing he wanted, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was Edwyrd in him as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re better, Edwie, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> your cock is so much better than anything else in the world, please please just put it in me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A grin spread across the older male’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure you’re ready? You’ve only had one finger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar nodded frantically, so hard his brain felt like it shook in his skull, craving the painful burn of his hole stretching around a fat cock, unable to do anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pleasepleaseplease, oh divines!” He cried as the head pushed in, entrance forced to open up around the intrusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So pretty under me, my prince. And I said you would call for the divines, didn’t I, love?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar nodded desperately, although he was unsure about Edwyrd calling him “love”. They weren’t in a relationship, and the lord knew he didn’t feel that way about his advisor, he didn’t feel that way about anyone, was near sure he wasn’t capable of feeling it at all. And Edwyrd hadn’t expressed anything that suggested he felt the same, not in the 10 years since they had started this thing, unless you count passionate sex and constantly pushing to get closer to him as a friend as a show of romantic affection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, Sylvar didn’t hope Edwyrd felt that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smaller man let out a near scream as a large hand splayed over his upper back, holding him down just hard enough that he couldn’t get up if he tried, hips slamming against his own at a brutal pace right off the bat, driving that frankly </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive </span>
  </em>
  <span>length deeper into him with each thrust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar reached an arm behind his head to clutch at the back of Edwyrd’s toned neck for anything to hold so he could stay in reality, sobbing into the pillow, every thrust knocking another puff of breath out of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God you’re so fucking tight around me, pet.” Edwyrd growled, clearly close to his own limit. He gripped one of Sylvar’s ankles and hooked it over his shoulder, the new angle hitting the sovereign’s sweet spot with every thrust, the younger man crying out so loud the whole castle could probably hear him, not that they would dare say anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd felt himself getting close and he took a moment to appreciate their significant size difference and marvel at just how that tiny little pucker could take his cock so well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a last attempt to show off his strength, he pulled out, Sylvar crying out “no!” before he was lifted off the bed and pressed to the warrior’s chest, bounced up and down on his cock as he stood in front of the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, fuck!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edwyrd was right (of course he was right) that proving he could throw Sylvar across the room with no effort made the king’s cock throb wildly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Edwy, Ed Ed, oh fuck Daddy I’m gonna cum!” Sylvar was wildly embarrassed about his Daddy kink, the word only ever slipping out as he was about to finish, and it always got Edwyrd there with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt that familiar finger pressing in alongside the girth inside him and screamed, head jerking back and back arching as he spurted over the bigger man’s toned chest, wrapping his arms right around Edwyrd’s neck and moaning wantonly into his shoulder as he felt cum filling his hole while he rode out his high.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next thing Sylvar knew, he was waking up to coloured sunbeams shining through his window, large arms wrapped around him, and an </span>
  <em>
    <span>insistent </span>
  </em>
  <span>pain in his ass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Curse you, swine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd chuckled into the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re back to normal now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” The sovereign wiggled out of the tight grip, standing and quickly putting on a morning robe. “So out of my room. We’re not lovers and you don’t need to spend the night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd was prepared for it, but it stung a little each time. He got out of bed and dressed, saying “I just wanted to clean you up, you passed out on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar flushed down to his chest and turned away to face the window. “Out. Now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he was out.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chapter two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a look into sylvar’s head</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>italics are the voice in sylvar’s head, bold are his own thoughts</p><p>again, heed the tags, there’s explicit violence in this one</p><p>also i commissioned one of my friends to draw these characters so i’ll post that when they’re finished!</p><p>also also there’s a paragraph where the fourth wall is broken and it speaks of me, the author, and i use it/its pronouns in reference to myself, just to clarify because it could be hard to read without that clarification 🤪</p><p>enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sylvar groaned into his hands for only a moment after the nuisance had exited his chambers. He let himself wallow in shame for a few seconds before forcing all memory of the night before out of his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A servant, insistent fear cloaked under her silent and unflawed demeanor everyone in the castle wore in order to avoid upsetting their lord, knocked on the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it now?” he boomed, rubbing his temples as a sinus headache made its way into his brain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast, my lord.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar wasn’t hungry, never was, had never cared about the pleasure of food, but his unrestrainable thoughts flickered to Edwyrd for a moment, and how he always forced him to eat. Edwyrd had a deep care for Sylvar that the narcissist just couldn’t wrap his brain around (he was perfect and everyone should like him, but nobody should be caring for him </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> deeply), and the royal advisor always kept track of the sovereign’s eating habits since that moment years ago when he had caught his lord passing out from lack of nutrition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hated that Edwyrd was what his brain wandered to right now, but he let the servant enter and bitterly ate the fresh fruit in the bowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar was a devoted vegan, not because of his care for the environment or animals, simply because his hatred for animals was so great he would never ruin his temple of a body with anything that came from those filthy fucking creatures. The royal farm was miles away from the castle, a hassle for every worker, but why should Sylvar care?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He despised babies as well, for the same reasons. They were disgustingly filthy and didn’t listen to any commands, unable to think for themselves. Absolutely worthless. One of his servants had gotten pregnant a few years ago and the monarch had her work right up to term, but banished her from the kingdom the moment she gave birth. Sylvar wouldn’t let an </span>
  <em>
    <span>infant</span>
  </em>
  <span> into his palace. The thought of it made him shudder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finished most of his food before running a bath. This was a task that most royals would have a maid take care of, but Sylvar would never let anyone touch his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what about last night when-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The king shouted in frustration, shutting up his unwanted thoughts. Nobody was allowed to touch his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar cleaned himself and brushed his teeth before beginning his skincare routine and lengthy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>lengthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> daily hair treatments. Even if he was slightly lenient about the nobody-at-all-ever-touches-my-body rule, not even Edwyrd could touch his silky pink hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s done it before though, hasn’t he? Remember that time when he pulled it and we came untouched-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! Silence yourself, that didn’t happen!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a regular occurrence that Sylvar would talk out loud to the voice in his head, even in public as he didn’t care about any social construct that had been put into place before him (nobody had ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>dared</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say anything). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Sylvar was a child he had thought it was a conscience, something he read about in a book, but why would he have a conscience? He didn’t feel anything else, didn’t have morals, he must just be crazy, hearing things. And he supposed he was fine with that. He was fucked up in so many other ways, what was one more?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sovereign’s legs burned as he walked the short distance from his vanity to his wardrobe, but he forced himself to keep standing. They’d burned since he was little, muscles aching when he walked. Sylvar supposed it was some sort of chronic condition, just another thing to add on to his list of things wrong with him, but he developed a strong pain tolerance at an early age, rarely acknowledging those sharp muscle pains now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The king laced up his <a href="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1102/3024/products/VG-19855_F_Corset_Vintage_Goth_6ef76acb-73e8-4389-be4e-4f9452c65bee.jpg?v=1603963334">corset</a>, completely denying the way his soft cock twitched in his <a href="https://i.etsystatic.com/21685342/r/il/eb9c83/2406086752/il_570xN.2406086752_foys.jpg">undergarments</a> when his breath became mildly restricted, and dressed himself in the <a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Eafe52mUEAE_4zz.jpg">gown</a> he had laid out for this day. Sylvar’s thoughts wandered where he had forbidden them to go yet again as he rolled on his <a href="https://shop.strato.com/WebRoot/StoreGB/Shops/61359424/4C60/7885/26FB/7E1C/69BB/C0A8/29BB/B458/white-lace-up-back-stocking.jpg">stockings</a> and laced up his <a href="https://armstreet.com/catalogue/small/renaissance-memories-embossed-leather-shoes-with-lacing.jpg">shoes</a>. He had learned years ago that he couldn’t command his mind as he could people, and that frustrated him to no end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the ruler finished up his morning routine, making his way through the winding halls to his study, his thoughts flew rapidly from one unwanted topic to the other, flickering like an oil lamp in desperate need of a refill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remember last evening? I do. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No, we are not thinking about last night, stop fucking mentioning it, we’re not going to think about that right now!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But didn’t it feel </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>oh so good</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> when he held us down? We couldn’t move even if we wanted to. We were completely </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>out of control.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No we were </b>
  <b>
    <em>not!</em>
  </b>
  <b> We could have easily stopped him and gotten up if we wanted to.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ha! You just admitted that we didn’t want to!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>We- he- well he must have tricked us! Yes, he must have drugged us with some type of aphrodisiac so we were under his spell!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What about the countless other times we’ve cum untouched from his grasp?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>We-</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up and listen to me. He’s been fucking us for </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>ten years now</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>, we are twenty seven years old! And how could he possibly have drugged us? He’s fucked us on days when we hadn’t eaten or drank anything. And we should be eating, we always passed out those times.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>We did eat today!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, a few strawberries and three pieces of honeydew.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>That’s enough to not pass out!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not enough to pass out?! We are undernourished!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Sylvar shouted as he slammed the door to his study behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fell into the cozy chair next to the door, taking deep breaths with his head in his hands. His voice hadn’t been this loud in a long time. He had to cut things off with Edwyrd for good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yeah? Remember the last 6 times we tried that? How we held off for a week or two before dropping to our knees and begging him to pound us until we couldn’t speak?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that won’t happen this time! I’ll just kill him!” Sylvar cried in desperation for his head to just calm the fuck down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, we’ll kill him, huh? No we won’t. We don’t even have the guts to banish him. We clearly care abo-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE DO NOT FUCKING CARE ABOUT HIM! We do not fucking care about anyone!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar had an insistent need to cut his head open and dig out his brain, the way he had done to his left eye when he was 16 because it had been watering from allergies. But he had too much pride to kill himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He banged his head against the wall a few times, a trick that sometimes worked to shut the voice up. And it did, even if he knew it wouldn’t last long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar got up and sat at his desk, beginning to sketch out some blueprints for new torture devices, the action calming him down. Until he spotted a movement in the garden his window overlooked. He was prepared to open the window and yell at whoever was distracting him before he noticed who exactly it was, and his breath caught in his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silver hair was flowing elegantly in the wind and down a broad back, facing away from the window. The man was relaxing on a bench, just taking in the beauty of the exquisitely-kept palace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Edwyrd.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sovereign didn’t even notice how tense he had become until the charcoal snapped in his fist, gasping in shock as flecks of it ruined his sketch and smudged his palm black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AGH!!” Sylvar shouted in frustration, tears pricking in the back of his eye that he refused to let fall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fuming monarch crumpled up his scroll and threw it into the log fire that the servants kept flaming 24/7 after one unlucky manservant had been stretched out on the rack and ripped apart from his middle, guts hanging out and staining the floor as he screamed in agony before finally dying, when Sylvar made his way into the study one morning and found the fireplace empty but for soot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked briskly to the nearest washroom to clean the black smudge off his hands and to get away from Edwyrd, who, every time he was in Sylvar’s view, only made the little voice in the back of his head ever more nettling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking in the mirror at his milky skin that was flushed red down to his chest, he was silently thankful that his gown hadn’t been ruined by the fucking charcoal. He carefully wrapped a cloth around his neck and shoulders so his garments wouldn’t get wet as he splashed his burning face with the cold water only accessible in the palace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Sylvar was clean to his own high standards, he left the washroom, slamming the door behind him and made his way (painfully, although he wouldn’t show it) down the stairs to the dungeon converted into his beloved torture chamber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he became emperor-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I am </b>
  <b>
    <em>not</em>
  </b>
  <b> an emperor, that’s a tasteless word used by wrinkly old men who-</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up, the writer is just out of words for “ruler” and it’s trying not to use one of the synonyms more times than the others or the same one too many times in a row. You have absolutely no idea how many times it’s switched tabs to find synonyms for simple words in order to sound sophisticated. It’s honestly out of its mind after writing for this long in one sessio-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Oh my gods, please be quiet. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Sylvar became emperor, he flipped through the collection of journals he’d started when he was a child, countless books full of things he planned in great detail that he would do when he finally came into power. One of the books he wrote in when he was 16 had an idea to replace the dungeon with an elaborate torture chamber. Why would Sylvar put any criminals (his idea of a criminal was anyone he didn’t like) in cells when he could just mutilate them and kill them slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was an entire journal after that one full of blueprints for torture devices. His only experience with any mechanics used for causing pain was when he was kidnapped and forced to watch his mother die a slow and painful death (although he didn’t like to think about that), and he vaguely remembered some of the things that had been done to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar was a creative type, however, and didn’t want to just blatantly copy the devices he’d already seen. Where was the fun in that? So he filled a journal with his own complex ideas, and as adult Sylvar looked back at and improved them, commanding architects to create the chamber and the mechanics. He started sketching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had never really had a hobby before, unless causing other people pain for fun was a hobby, but drawing really seemed to calm his frantic brain. He drew everything he saw, but ripped anything up that didn’t look exactly like his reference. He had already been a perfectionist, but that was only enhanced by his </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to draw everything exact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar forced himself out of reminiscing about how much of a god-like genius he was, even as a child, to marvel at his special room. He sighed contently, sitting in his favourite chair and breathed in the chemical smell of disinfectant. He loved the little high it gave him when it was intense, and he wasn’t one to experiment with drugs because he had his own ways to get high, but every so often the king would soak a cloth with the cleaning solutions and inhale. It was just a little thing he enjoyed every so often to calm him of his franticness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar ran the bell to call his torturers, although he didn’t like to call them that; he was the one causing the torture. They were two burly men who could manipulate his special tools with ease, and besides, Sylvar hated getting his pretty royal hands dirty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lord would sit on a throne more elegant than the one in the throne room, elevated by a platform high enough not to be splattered with any fluids, and watch his victims be pulled apart, mutilated, crushed under the metal of his intricate designs turned from charcoal on paper to reality by what seemed like magic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aftermath of the ministrations left innards over the floors, and if the fluids and parts and guts had been anything but fluids and parts and guts, Sylvar would be disgusted. A significant number of those fluids and parts and guts had come from servants who had spilled food in front of him, not that the king cared for the food, he didn’t even care much about the mess that would be cleaned up before he had to ask, it only mattered because it was wrong. Food should not be spilled, messes should not be made, nothing should ever happen unless he said it should happen. And he had never said that should happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two men entered the room and helped Sylvar up to his throne. “What today, sire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A dishwasher washed a goblet lazily. There were residues of milk in my wine. And I do not drink milk. Fetch her for me if you’re able, but really any dishwasher will do. I just need to see that pretty saw in use. I’ve been itching for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The <a href="https://m.imgur.com/8p4uA">saw</a> had always been one of Sylvar’s favourites, one he had first imagined when he was 8, but hadn’t drawn until he started his first sketchbook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It consisted of a horizontal metal bar eleven feet up, connected by two beams on either side, and a grate in the floor directly under, leading to the sewers. Or the drinking well in the commoners’ part of town. Sylvar couldn’t bother to remember which it was, or care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The victim was stripped naked with shackles tight around their ankles and hung upside down with chains from the beam until the blood rushed to their head. One victim must’ve had weak ankles and a heavy torso, for their foot was ripped from their leg before the saw could even be taken out from storage. That was disappointing, but fairly fun to watch nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it went as it was supposed to, however, a large saw would be positioned between the victim’s legs, held on either side by one of the men, and sawed them in half from their genitals until their neck, or however far they got until they couldn’t cut through a particularly strong bone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blood had all rushed to the victim’s head, allowing them to remain consciousness throughout the process. This was Sylvar’s favourite part, as his throne was positioned such that he could stare into the victims eyes as they filled with fear before closing as the blood ran down over their face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dishwasher was positioned soon enough and Sylvar gave them the go to begin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With her first scream of agony, the sovereign felt a rush of pleasure through his whole body, sparks of electricity flowing from his head and the tips of his limbs, meeting in the middle at his gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So pretty,” Sylvar commented, loud enough for the woman to hear over her screams and her face contorted in disgust at his words. He couldn’t understand how nobody but him found this pretty. He thought the way the blood trickled down her body oh so gracefully and the way when her torso split he could see everything inside that made her body run was beautiful. Gorgeous. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captivating.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t unusual for Sylvar to feel arousal during these sessions, in fact, he expected it. He would never touch himself, unabashed in most things he did, but he couldn’t bear for anyone to see him in this state. Well, he often sought out Edwyrd when he was done. But nobody else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time the blade reached her chin and she had been dead for a few minutes, the monarch was achingly hard under his skirt. He really hoped it wasn’t noticeable, even if the torturers wouldn’t dare say anything about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman continued to hang there until Sylvar left; he often enjoyed marveling over the corpse when it was finished. The two men offered to help him down from the throne but he refused, ordering them sharply to leave. If they touched him, they could accidentally feel his hard-on, and that would be mortifying. So he begrudgingly got down himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enjoyed that, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar jumped and turned around. Edwyrd. Of course. Fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gods, I wish I had never shown you the hidden entrance. Never sneak up on me like this again. And you know I’m meant to be alone during these sessions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but you often come to me after, so I figured I might come to you this time. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty, I have to admit. Not necessarily my thing, but I can see how it would be appealing to you. And I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>how appealing it is to you.” Edwyrd gestured to the bulge under the gown and Sylvar flushed against his will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave. I don’t want you here. I don’t need you to help me and I don’t need you at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so this is another of those attempts at abstinence?” Edwyrd looked amused as he leaned coolly against the wall. “Why bother? They only last for a few days before I’m back in your room making you cum with just my words.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what I said.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Fuck off.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious this time.” Sylvar crossed his arms and scowled, willing his erection to go down, but with the way Edwyrd was just acting so smug and unaffected, it didn’t seem it was going to flag anytime soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just give in. You know we need him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>We do not. We don’t need anyone, we can take care of ourself just fine.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know that’s not true. We haven’t been able to make ourself cum in ten years. He’s ruined everything else for us. And you know very well how much we hate being uncomfortable. We’ll be tortured until he takes care of us. We’re supposed to do the torturing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I just- We can’t give in.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We can, we have to, and we will.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. But this is the last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sure.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. chapter three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a look into edwyrd’s head.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i am so terribly sorry for how rushed this is, i don’t know why i had such trouble writing it. every time i tried to add to it i developed a bad case of writers block but i wrote two oneshots in between which helped a bit. eventually i just buckled down and finished it even though it wasn’t really working. i feel better about the next few chapters, so hopefully those will be out quickly and won’t be as bad as this :,)</p><p>tags are updated, please read them, and as usual, dead dove do not eat!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The moment Edwyrd got back to his chambers from Sylvar’s, he took out his charcoal and a scroll, closing his eyes to envision that vivid image of the king under his body, splayed out and wrecked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His love was so gorgeous, so perfect, and all his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd sunk back into his chair and sighed contently as he thought of his soulmate. Maybe he was obsessed, but what was wrong with that? They were perfect, in love, made for each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd was so good to him, and Sylvar was so good in return. The way the god-like sovereign threw him out and insulted him, telling him he was worthless… wow. He was just the best boyfriend, wasn’t he? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brought the charcoal to the paper and began to sketch the memory, getting hard in his trousers as he did so. Edwyrd didn’t hesitate to get off as soon as he reached a good stopping point, rolling up the scroll and storing it with the hundreds of others he had made in the past ten years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time they had fucked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, made love, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was a religious experience for Edwyrd. He knew instantly that this was the man he loved, </span>
  <em>
    <span>worshipped, </span>
  </em>
  <span>would do anything for. Sylvar was his god.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had started drawing after their first encounter, determined to never forget it. The only way Edwyrd could think of that was to put it on paper the moment he finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On nights they didn’t make love, because Sylvar was doing that adorable thing where he pretended to hate Edwyrd, the knight-in-training would take a ladder to the courtyard outside the prince’s chambers, climbing up in any attempt to see him, watching him sleep lovingly, often getting himself off as he stared at his boyfriend, knowing that he couldn’t see Edywrd, but would appreciate it if he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were in love, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Edwyrd stored the unfinished sketch in his drawer for later, taking the pair of panties from the back of his wardrobe, holding them to his face and inhaling the heavenly scent of his beloved as his right hand trailed down his torso to the stiffened bulge in his trousers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He groaned at the smell, falling back onto his bed and palming himself, not even bothering to pull out his cock. With the image of last night flickering behind Edwyrd’s eyes, he wouldn’t last long enough to bother with that. And it happened to be laundry day anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd’s thoughts played through the highlights of the encounter the night before on repeat, the way his lord and saviour squealed as he pressed his length into him, the way Sylvar’s cock twitched and spurted precum when Edwyrd called him a good boy, the w-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he was cumming, crying out as his hips thrust up into his palm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decided not to change. The feel of his release drying around his cock would remind him throughout the day of Sylvar, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvar…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd came again immediately after, dry this time, at the thought of his lover finding the cum in his undergarments, knowing he’s the one who did that to Edwyrd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got out of bed, placing the sacred garment back in its special drawer in the wardrobe along with the other clothes he had stolen from Sylvar’s laundry, and left his chambers for breakfast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd ate quickly, determined to get to his spot in the garden directly below Sylvar’s study. Most days he sat on that bench, hand mirror positioned just so that he could see clearly into the window of the study, watching Sylvar do his work intently without the ruler knowing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was exhilarating watching his love without him knowing. There was just something about the secrecy of it, and of course just how ethereal Sylvar was, that made Edwyrd’s heart race and his palms sweat and his knuckles clench until they were white with the sheer intensity of his emotions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fact that Edwyrd was the only person Sylvar ever interacted with made him absolutely giddy with affection. His beloved inamorato had never expressed his love directly, but what else could it be when he killed everyone else who even dared to look at him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Edwyrd wished there was a way to get even closer to Sylvar. Sometimes he would be ignored by the king for days at a time (which was fine, he must just have an odd way of showing affection), and there must be something he could do to get his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of murder crossed his mind every so often. That was Sylvar’s favourite thing, the only thing he loved other than Edwyrd. Maybe if Edwyrd enjoyed it too, Sylvar would love him more. And morals weren’t the problem. Edwyrd wouldn’t hesitate to kill a baby if it would guarantee Sylvar to even so much as look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A flicker of movement across the glass of the mirror caught his gaze, and he focused his eyes on the just barely obscured view of Sylvar settling at his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was absolutely ethereal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar was there only for a few moments before he stood, looking out the window, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at Edwyrd.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s looking at me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>at me!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Edwyrd whispered excitedly to himself, forcing his body to calm down so as not to startle his lover, only staring intensely at the reflection in his hand mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd was startled himself when he heard a shout through the window; he blinked and suddenly Sylvar was no longer in the room. He must be going to the torture chambers, mustn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ex-knight watched in fascination as the last of the servant’s blood was drained from her body. It was very pretty he had to admit. But if Edwyrd were to kill someone himself, he would prefer to get a little dirtier, more personal, with it. He would pin the victim down, dig a knife into their flesh, cut out their innards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would eat them. Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he would eat them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Sylvar was getting off his throne, and Edwyrd had to say something. Had to get his attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enjoyed that, huh?” He put on as much of a cool demeanor as he was able, voice steady, arms crossed loosely over his chest, leaning against the pristine ivory wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar had that disappointed, angry look on his face and it excited Edwyrd to no end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gods, I wish I had never shown you the hidden entrance. Never sneak up on me like this again. And you know I’m meant to be alone during these sessions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd did know that, but when had he ever followed Sylvar’s rules? He was the exception, he was Sylvar’s soulmate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but you often come to me after, so I figured I might come to you this time. It was pretty, I have to admit. Not necessarily my thing, but I can see how it would be appealing to you. And I can see how appealing it is to you.” He gestured to Sylvar’s erection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edwyrd didn’t mention that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>his thing, or at least the murder part of it, less the method, but he would love to watch someone die at his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave. I don’t want you here. I don’t need you to help me and I don’t need you at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, that adorable banter they engaged in. Sylvar pretending he hated Edwyrd and Edwyrd trying to convince Sylvar otherwise, although he knew deep down his feelings were reciprocated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so this is another of those attempts at abstinence?” Edwyrd smirked as he replied. “Why bother? They only last for a few days before I’m back in your room making you come with just my words.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious this time.” Edwyrd would never get over how charming Sylvar’s annoyed scowl was in these playful moments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvar hesitated before responding and Edwyrd assumed he was listening to those voices. He didn’t understand the voices. Sylvar didn’t need voices when he had Edwyrd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. But this is the last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A triumphant grin spread across Edwyrd’s face. Yet again, Sylvar gave in to their connection. Their soulmate connection.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kudos &amp; comments are greatly appreciated, peace &amp; love !!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kudos &amp; comments are greatly appreciated, peace and love !</p></blockquote></div></div>
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